


Rebirth

by Macx



Category: Mummies Alive
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2011-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set after The Face in the Mirror and deals mainly with what happened to Anubis. This is my attempt to explain as to why he is as he was depicted in the show, as well as what he might have been before...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Mummies Alive story, but none of the mummies appear in it. It's dealing with one of my most favorite side characters: Anubis. The idea for this story came all of a sudden and a friend of mine (hi, Lee!) volunteered to have an open ear for my theories.  
> This is my attempt to explain why Anubis is what he is, how he came to be the slightly dim-witted individual we see in the show. I don't believe he was always like this and there has to be a reason or an event how he changed.  
> The story picks up a few weeks after The Face in the Mirror, which I see as the last time Anubis appeared in the show (I'm juggling Family Feud around where the timeline is concerned. I think it could have happened before FITM).

   
The house had been erected in one of the better areas of San Francisco, built of brick and stone, two stories high, and painted in subdued colors. A small garden was out front and the back yard was shadowed by tall, old trees. The street was quiet and there was a rarely a bus or car driving by. Busses had been rerouted about three years ago and the bus stop just across the street had been moved. The only cars coming or going were those of the other owners, and now and then a cyclist shot by. From the roof window you could see the bay and on clear days you had an incredible panorama. The people who lived here had either inherited or bought these old houses. Those who had bought them used the homes as weekend refugees or rented them for a lot of money to wealthy tourists and businessmen. The current owner of the house number 19 had inherited the place. At the time it had been a run-down building since her grandmother had not considered herself a crafty person. The inside had been okay, but the garden had looked wild and the yard had been cluttered with all kinds of stuff. Now the house looked like new, two years of hard work paying off.  
Morrigan O'Connor lived here around the year and used the house both as her home and as her working place. A high tech, state-of-the-art computer, connected to the main computer at the company she worked for, with printers, a scanner and everything she could possibly need was her working place which she had installed in a large room on the second floor. Morrigan was a computer engineer and had specialized herself on virus problems. From her place she could surf in every system, enter every closed-off area and correct what had been done wrong. She did it freelance, but worked mainly for a single company – because they paid big bucks for her work.  
Right now she wasn't sitting at the computer and working. She was leaning against the wall of her guest room, thoughtfully studying the still form in the bed. The smell of disinfectant dominated the room, dried blood mixing into in, and the desk was cluttered with medical utensils, bandages and a band-aids. She had to get her clothes and the clothes of her 'guest' cleaned before the blood couldn't be removed anymore. Maybe that would be the best idea to do now since she guessed that he wouldn't come around for a while. Taking the bundle on the floor she walked into the basement to where the washing machine and dryer stood. Morrigan got out some new clothes from the recently washed sweats and pulled them on, shedding the blood-crusted shirt and the leggings. Then she began throwing the stained clothes into the washing machine. She stopped when she held the clothes of her visitor in hand. Well, what was left of it anyway.  
Egyptian. What else had she expected from his looks? He wasn't exactly your run-of-the-mill normal person anyway. She wondered whether he even was a 'person' because he definitely wasn't human. Humanoid maybe, but 100% non-human. And he had been dressed in a white skirt with a golden hem and a sash tied around his waist, sandals, bracelets around his arms and shins.....  
"Grandma would have thrown a fit," she muttered and stuffed the clothes into the machine.  
Grandmother Winters had been a practicing White Witch, and Morrigan had been a very interested granddaughter. Whenever her parents allowed or whenever she could come, she visited and let her grandmother teach her the ways of magic. Of course, Maddie Winters hadn't been a great witch and she had never cast spells or curses, nor had she done any 'light effects'. That wasn't what magic was about, she had told Morrigan. It was about understanding nature, about seeing the energy streams all around you, using them, influencing them ever-so-subtly. It was about knowledge. That Maddie Winters could still throw energy flashes and call upon spirits was secondary. Morrigan had not inherited that particular talent. She was more of a passive witch, someone whose powers were present and strong, but she couldn't actually bundle energies into lightning bolts. Her grandmother had called her a Shield. It had taken her a while to find out what exactly a shield was, but it all came down to being a protector, not a defender, and also being unable to cast actual spells; she could counteract, she could use another's magic if she could get its 'signature', but she didn't have magic of her own. It was complicated, it gave her headaches, and she was still learning.  
Straightening Morrigan switched on the washing machine and then walked upstairs. Her tennis shoe covered feet crunched on glass and she sighed. Another 'present' from her guest. The large hallway mirror lay in ruins, the glass shattered in a million pieces. There had been a cracking sound, which had alerted her, then a splintering, and then a brilliant light had surged through the hallway. After it had subsided she had found her guest lying curled up on the floor, a total mess. The bruises and abrasions had been the slightest problem; the bigger one had been the scratch and bite wounds all over his chest, as well as a deep gash in his left thigh. There had been blood all over him and she guessed some wasn't his.  
Morrigan had no other talents in the medical area but what a first aid course had taught her, and she suspected she might have to call a friend from the Occult Community to help her out if this cut needed further treatment. Cleaning the hallway she pondered what to do now. She had an unwelcome, rather otherworldly creature upstairs in her bedroom, it was hurt and maybe it wasn't even sentient enough to understand that she wasn't the enemy. It was hurt and in pain and might just react out of instinct..... She sighed and dumped the glass fragments in a bucket.  
"Let's wait and see," she muttered and went to make herself coffee and sandwiches. She planned on spending the night with her guest, watching him in case something happened, in case he got worse. Then again, could it get any worse?

* * *

The next morning was answer enough to that question. A tired and exhausted, as well as now rather cranky, Morrigan O'Connor toweled her hair, regarding her reflection in the mirror.  
'I'm going to have a black eye,' she thought darkly. 'That's what you get for being hospitable!'  
The evening had started calm enough, but throughout the night her guest had slipped into a high fever. He had tossed and turned, and then he had started tearing apart the mattress. She had taken notice of the claws the very first time she had treated him and now she had seen what they could do. So much for the bed. Morrigan had tried to calm him down enough, getting cold towels to cool the fever, but then he had started struggling against her, making noises of fear and denial. Her very touch had evoked a reaction of utter terror and that's when he had lashed out, hitting her in the face. She was glad those claws hadn't struck somewhere.  
Returning to the guest room, dressed in a bathrobe and slippers, she quickly and carefully checked the temperature, noting that the fever had dropped again but wasn't gone. She wondered if she should force-feed some liquids into him. Fevers were accompanied by sweating, and sweating meant loss of bodily fluids. Well, she could try – and wear a football helmet, the nasty part of her mind added. She grimaced.  
Morrigan dressed and had breakfast, thoughtfully chewing on a bun, her mind turning the question of the identity of her visitor over and over again. She *knew* who he was, at least what he appeared to be, but was he this mythological creature? That he was paranormal was clear and no question about that, but was he just looking like some Egyptian god or was he the real thing? And why had this god appeared in her hallway through a mirror? She didn't think her house was a nexus point of energy. Grandmother Winters hadn't mentioned anything of the like. She also hadn't experimented with unusual spells or incantations.  
Grabbing a book from the shelf full of all kinds of books, Morrigan took her laptop and went upstairs again. She had no plans leaving the creature alone, in case he woke, but she also had work to do. She was expected to run a diagnostics program today. She could let one of the programs she had written supervise the test, but she had to check it from time to time. She sat up the laptop, logged herself into the system and started the procedure. About an hour later she settled back with the book and started reading. The book's title was 'Gods of Ancient Egypt', the chapter she started with 'Anubis'.......

* * *

 _  
Something was moving outside his immediate line of sight, but he felt it. It was there. He turned, eyes wide in terror and fright, raising his staff, the only weapon he still had. That was when the pain struck. He cried out in agony as his head seemed to explode. Blinding white lights flared up in front of his eyes and he grabbed his head, willing the pain to subside. But the more he fought against it, the stronger it got. With a sob he fell to his knees. Like through layers of thick wool he heard shouts and a triumphant cry, then even that was gone. There was only pain.  
_   
_  
His mind cried out for help, his body trembling. He forced himself to move, but he didn't know if he was actually going somewhere or just falling. Everything was nothing but pain. And he was falling deeper and deeper into it, spiraling into a dark abyss. His body hit the ground and he curled into a ball, still clutching his head. It was unbearable and he wished he'd fall into the merciful blackness of unconsciousness, but it seemed that something was keeping relief from him.  
_   
_  
Then there was something else.  
_   
_  
Another presence.  
_   
_  
He opened his eyes, tears of pain streaming out of them, and all he saw was the brilliant white light, which was only now subsiding. Instead of the light came the shadow. He knew the outlines of the shadow by now and the terror it invoked nearly choked him. NO! He reacted by instinct, making a run for it, his trembling body nearly failing him.  
_   
_  
The pain throbbing in his head got worse by the second and he was partly blinded by it.  
_   
_  
The shadow popped up in front of him.  
_   
_  
"No," he whispered, panting.  
_   
_  
It hadn't been his fault! He had been dragged into this!  
_   
_  
And then he saw it. Another exit out of this world of eternal pain. Gathering his last powers he launched himself into the open gate.  
_

His eyes snapped open and it took him a while to focus. Above him was whiteness, not as blinding as the white light of the pain but a more soothing light. He lay on his back, staring up at what had to be a ceiling, and he felt a soft material under his fingers. He probed the material carefully and guessed it had to be a mattress.  
Mattress?  
Ceiling?  
He turned his head and suddenly a low, throbbing pain exploded behind his forehead. He moaned and shut his eyes as the pain increased.  
Something touched him.

 _  
A hand closed around his slender body and flung him through the black emptiness of the mirror. He connected with an unyielding surface, the wind driven out of his lungs. He collapsed, gasping for air.  
_   
_  
Pain exploded in his left shoulder and he cried out. He saw long, gleaming talons bearing down on him and tried to move, but the hand stopped him, closing around his throat like a vice, squeezing. His yell of fright was choked off and he felt the hand tighten its hold, raising him to stare into the ruby eyes of the monster, the Eye of Darkness.  
_   
_  
"You'll pay for this," it whispered.  
_   
_  
Anubis screamed in terror.  
_

Panic overwhelmed him and he gave a cry of fright, moving away from the touch as fast as his battered and abused body allowed. It was quite far because he suddenly slipped off the bed and landed rather unceremoniously on the floor. But his terror-blinded mind ignored the multiple new pains shooting through him, the hurting ribcage, the blazing thigh; it made him crawl further away. Where the fingers had touched his skin it burned like on fire.  
A voice penetrated the fog of fear and pain. It was soft, gentle, and had a calming effect. He tried to get the meaning of the words, but they eluded him. All he understood was the tone of voice and there was a kind of aura around it that made his overwhelmed mind relax, calmed it. He lifted his head, blinking, trying to focus.  
A hand reached for him.

 _  
Claws digging into his flesh, punishing him. He was too hoarse to cry anymore, a pitiful whimper escaping his split lips. He was flung aside like an old, unwanted doll, and the monster walked off in search for its other victim. Moaning softly he tried to move, but every little twitch evoked waves of agony. Lying on the black, cold ground he searched for the last droplets of his magic.  
_   
_  
He had to get out of here.....  
_

He moved back, connecting with a wall, trying to bury himself into the stone. No, no, no! A terrified whine escaped his throat, turning into a warning snarl, teeth bared, as the hand remained too close. The voice was there again, soothing the fear, telling him it was okay. No on was going to hurt him. He refused to succumb to the voice, but he had no more strength left.  
The hand touched him, careful, lightly, and painless. It was cool on his feverish skin and it emitted emotional warmth that enveloped him, pulled him away from the terror. He whimpered softly, then surrendered, his mind shutting down, letting his needy body take over. Everything blurred, then there was oblivion.

*

Morrigan stared down at her patient with shock and realization, then she transferred her gaze to her hand. One touch. One touch and she had suddenly known what had happened, at least in a kind of blurry way. Grandmother Winters had told her that White Witches could sometimes develop bouts of empathy, but they were short and the powers never stayed long enough. Only the very talented ones kept it and could use it at will. Morrigan had had empathy spells before, but never like this, never accompanied by violent memories of another person. But now she understood her guest's fear of being touched.  
"You are safe here," she muttered as she pulled him up. He was surprisingly light, at least for a male body, and he was also very slender, nearly too thin in her eyes. She had discovered this fact the first time she had carried and dragged him to the guest room. But he was also taller than her, about one head, a head and a half if you took the ears into account.  
Anubis. She shook her head. There was no doubt about it. The head was a dead give-away. Long, pointed ears, snout, short, midnight-black coat..... A jackal's head. The fur was covering his body, but it was very, very short, soft and lay tightly on the skin. Except for the neck hair, which was a bit longer, it looked almost like skin. And it was pitch-black, of such a deep color she had never seen before. It seemed to swallow all light that came near it. There was a golden stripe across his snout and his eyes, which had no pupils, were outlined with gold as well. It wasn't paint, just golden colored fur.... Very strange. The insides of the ears were golden as well and when she had checked them, she had discovered that it was the skin that was painted in gold and that very fine, almost translucent white hair covered the sensitive organs.  
As she placed him back into the bed and pulled the slightly ripped cover over the still feverish body, Morrigan's eyes fell on the ripped mattress, then wandered to the claws. She had to do something about them because if he started struggling again she might end up with deep scratches ... and maybe bite wounds. That snout was rather dangerous as well. Morrigan left the room for a moment and when she came back she carried nail-clippers normally used on dogs and a muzzle. It helped to have neighbors with big dogs who dumped them on you for vacations and holidays.

* * *

The next days were straining and Morrigan got little sleep. She took off from work, telling her boss that an urgent family problem had occurred, and since she was ahead anyway, he granted her three days off. She spent those days nursing a humanoid jackal, who was going through high fevers and accompanying nightmares, whining, crying and whimpering. She managed to get him accustomed to her touch since he was terrified of hands. From the images flashing through her mind now and then she gathered that the monster in the mirror, the Eye of Darkness, had a lot to do with that. She caught memories of claws tearing into flesh and it made her feel sick.  
Anubis was behaving more like a frightened animal than a sentient being right now, and she hoped he was sentient at all because otherwise, with a fully conscious, very large dog on her hands, she might have a problem.  
The phone rang and she picked up, smiling as she recognized the cheery voice of an old friend. "Hi, Em!" she called.  
Emily Sanchez, who hated the name 'Emily' and bestowed her 'don't even think about calling me Emily again' look on everyone who used it, was a member of the Occult Community. She was a medium and had the most experience with paranormal events among those Morrigan knew in the small group she sometimes hung out with.  
"Hey, Morrigan, how's it going?"  
'Oh, great, just dandy!' Morrigan thought sourly. 'I have a jackal-headed god in my upstairs bedroom and he ripped up my new mattress, so how was your day?'  
"I had better days," was what she said out loud. "How are you?"  
"Oh, Ralph and I broke up, Danny sprained an ankle and Annie asks when you will come down."  
Morrigan smiled. Ralph and Em were an on-and-off couple, so news of them breaking up was never to be taken seriously because in two days you heard that they were back together again. Danny was the owner of the Mystique Shoppe who ended up with something sprained once in a while because he insisted he could roller-blade like an expert, and Annie was his sister.  
"Tell them I'm busy. I'll call as soon as possible."  
Em chuckled. "You are always busy."  
'More than you know right now.' "Had any visitations lately?" Morrigan asked.  
"Nah, nothing at all, but did you hear about the mummy sightings? Gary went to check and he says there is definitely a truth to it."  
"Told ya," Morrigan teased. "But would you believe me? No!"  
Em made a 'pht!' sound over the phone. "You know how Gary is. Won't believe anything until he checks it himself. Right now he's buried up to his nose in books."  
Morrigan thoughtfully chewed her lower lip. "Well, let me know what he finds out, okay?"  
"Hey, he might even call you because you felt it before the first sightings were reported."  
She sighed. "You know how my talent works, Em. It happens, I can't control it, and I'm not the one who can switch receptors on and off like Mark."  
"Yeah, well, he might call you anyway. Show yourself more often, Morrigan. Gotta go!" Em called and then hung up.  
Morrigan shook her head. She wondered if she should ask Gary about Anubis, but then erased that thought. Right now she would keep his presence here a secret to the Community.  
She filled a bottle normally used to feed babies with a liquid, orange colored substance – baby food mixed with a lot of water. Anubis had to drink, god or no god, and she had to get it into him. She had bought a nipple and cut off the tip first to see if it helped. When most of the food had trickled out of the long snout Morrigan had attached a flexible, short tube and now it worked.  
"Okay, my friend, time to get something into your stomach."  
Anubis moved weakly, eyelids fluttering but his eyes didn't open. Morrigan touched his forehead and noted with a pleased smile that the temperature had dropped. He would be down to what she hoped was a normal temperature for jackals soon.

* * *

Anubis woke. Again. But this time waking up wasn't accompanied by blinding pain or the terror of what he might find when he opened his eyes. Strangely enough he had faint recollections of safety and protection, though he had no real idea where this feeling might come from. He gazed at the white ceiling, then looked around the room, faintly aware that there was something different about him. The room he was in had been painted a soft white color, the floor covered by parquet on which lag rugs. The bed was large, fitting two people, and there was a wardrobe in one corner of the room. A full-size mirror hung next to it. The sight of the mirror instilled immediate terror in him and he gasped, scrambling against the headrest, feeling the pillow bunch under him.  
That was when he also became aware of the muzzle. He lifted one hand, which was accompanied by faint stinging pain, and touched the leather muzzle around his snout. Puzzled he fumbled for the throngs, trying to find the knot. Who had done this... and while he was at it, who had cut his claws?! His nails had been clipped short, ridding him of his sharp talon-like claws.  
Someone stepped into the room and the task of undoing the muzzle was forgotten as he whirled and tensed. It was a human, a female to be exact, and she was carrying a tray. On the tray was a baby bottle filled with a creamy substance, a steaming pot, and a sandwich. As she walked into the room and became aware that he was awake, the woman carefully placed the tray on a small desk and regarded him with calm, grey eyes.  
"Good afternoon," she finally said. "Nice to see you are finally awake. I don't think I have to feed you then, right?"  
Anubis stared at her, trying to find out whether or not she was the enemy, who she was, what she wanted of him, but his mind was too confused by the recent events to think clearly. He retreated as best as he could as she came closer and a frown appeared on her forehead.  
"I won't hurt you. And I'll even take off the muzzle if you promise not to bite again."  
Again? Now his forehead wrinkled in a frown as well and he tried to remember a biting incident. Very faint images appeared, accompanied by blurry pictures of someone close by, and of a voice.  
"Promise?" the woman now asked. He nodded. "Okay. Well, it proves you understand what I'm saying, which is a great relief. I don't think I can take a course of ancient Egyptian somewhere." A smile flashed over her lips.  
Anubis felt her undo the knot, then slip the muzzle carefully off his snout. He winced as it touched a sore spot, stifling a yelp.  
"Sorry," she apologized, "but there is hardly a place on you that isn't bruised, cut or abraded."  
He was aware of that. He felt sore and weak, something he wasn't used to experiencing. Then again, he had never experienced anything like what had happened inside the Eye ever before..... He inhaled deeply as dark memories rose. And with them rose something else. Anubis blinked, trying to grasp the fleeting image of what he recalled knowing long ago but seemed to have forgotten. It slipped though his mind's fingers and disappeared in the woozy mass that was his current memory. He was drawn abruptly back to reality as a hand tried to touch the injured snout and he drew back, gasping, eyes wide.  
"My name is Morrigan," the woman now introduced herself, letting her hand fall to her side again, a slight frown on her face. "I think I know who and what you are, but I'm not sure. Care to tell me your name?"  
"I... I am Anubis," Anubis said slowly. His voice sounded hoarse and shaky. "Why did you....?" He pointed at the muzzle and raised the other hand. To his dismay he noticed it was trembling badly.  
Morrigan smiled slightly. "After you ripped apart my mattress and left the bed covers in tatters, I thought it might be the best idea. And the nails grow back, don't worry. As for the muzzle, you came close to biting me. It was self-defense."  
"Oh."  
"How do you feel?" she then asked and came carefully closer.  
Anubis forced himself not to move back again. The human was no danger to him; she couldn't hurt him. At least not more than he had already been hurt. "I've... felt better," he finally said.  
"I can believe that. At least you seem to have supernatural healing powers. The cut on your thigh is almost closed, though I guess it still hurts." Morrigan regarded him and Anubis felt unwell under the intense examination. "So you are an ancient Egyptian god?" she finally asked.  
Anubis opened his mouth, then closed it again, nodding.  
"How come you fell out of my mirror?"  
"Ah.... it's.... I'm not sure...." he stuttered.  
The Eye of Darkness..... Set... the mummies....  
Anubis swallowed and screwed his eyes shut as those terrifying memories assaulted him. A soft whimper escaped his lips.  
"Anubis?"  
He blinked his eyes open and stared at Morrigan who had come closer. "The Eye of Darkness," he blurted, shivering, wrapping his arms around his body as if cold.  
Morrigan nodded as if she knew what he was talking about. "It hurt you," she said softly.  
He breathed rapidly, shaking with the memories. "I escaped.... the mirror was my way out.... Set!"  
"Set?" she echoed.  
"He's still in there – I think. I'm not sure." He rubbed his forehead and winced again as he encountered a healing cut. "He left me alone." The words came quickly and Anubis felt those strange, old but welcome memories rise again.  
"We are talking about the Egyptian god Set?" Morrigan asked. "The guy who killed Osiris?"  
Anubis nodded. "He's a friend."  
She raised both eyebrows. "A friend? Set? I always thought he was one of the bad guys."  
He met her surprised eyes. "Uhm... we work together," Anubis stuttered, suddenly insecure. Something wasn't right!  
Morrigan shook her head. "So much for Egyptian history. I think I need to buy another book. What I read about the guy you are supposed to be told me another story. There isn't a word of you and Set working together, but maybe I'm wrong. You *are* Anubis, the jackal-headed embalmer of the gods, the so-called Royal Child, right?"  
"Ah.... I...." Anubis stopped and felt the recollections again, this time stronger. With a moan he buried his head in his hands. What was going on? Why were Morrigan's words like a key to something he had forgotten? Why did they ring a strange kind of truth? And why was another part of him fighting them?  
"Anubis?"  
"I don't know!" he managed, sounding slightly desperate. "I.... I am... I'm Anubis, but ..... He is... I was... am...." Everything was so confusing!  
She touched his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist, and Anubis cried out in instinctive fear, trying to pull his hand out of the light but very solid grasp. There was a strange expression in her eyes as she met his gaze, the grey suddenly swirling with gold and blue, drawing him in, forcing him to open his mind..... and it frightened him even more. With a whine and a half-snarl he moved back – and fell out of bed. He recalled that something like this had happened before.....  
"Don't touch me!" Anubis shrieked as Morrigan walked around the bed to help him.  
"What are you afraid of?"  
He shook his head in denial. "Don't.... don't touch me! Just don't touch me!" he begged.  
Morrigan regarded him sadly, then nodded. "Okay, I won't. Listen, if you feel up to it, I have some old jeans that are too large for me and a shirt here. You clothes didn't survive the trip in the washing machine." She smiled ruefully. "I hope you don't mind."  
"Uhm, no," Anubis answered hesitantly, suddenly aware that he was only covered by the bunched-up remains of the bed cover over his waist. She had stripped him of everything.  
"Just take it easy and don't chew on anything. I like my furniture as it is."  
He watched her leave, deeply puzzled by this woman. She wasn't afraid of him, she showed no awe and she was very much at ease with a god in her guest room. Anubis hung his head. God, yeah, right. He gazed at the still visible but healing scars of his wounds. He shivered at the memories of what had happened inside the Eye of Darkness. He had never been through anything like it before and he still wondered where Set was.  
Set......

 _  
"Greetings, Anubis, old friend."  
_   
_  
He turned and gave the large, dog-like creature now entering the hall-like room a look of barely contained disdain. "Set," he only said, voice level.  
_   
_  
"Ah, I see you are so happy to see me." Set grinned evilly.  
_   
_  
"What do you want?"  
_   
_  
"Pay you a friendly visit."  
_   
_  
"You never pay friendly visits, Set. What are you scheming this time?" Anubis asked levelly.  
_   
_  
"Nothing, nothing at all!" Set kept on smiling and he probably believed that it was a friendly and innocent expression. But Anubis knew and loathed him enough to see through it.  
_   
_  
Set was a scheming, devious creature, always up to wrecking havoc on someone or something or tormenting the souls residing behind the Western Gate who wandered too far from their homes. Set was too cowardly to enter the protected haven of the Afterlife, but he liked to lure the unsuspecting outside and then use them for his plans. Anubis was one of the gods who had erected the safe areas and who looked after the safety of the souls. Set liked to see himself as the leader of the Trackers of Souls, a bunch of dog-like spirits who readily accepted the powerful god as their leader. He had tried to convince Anubis to work with him as a partner, but Anubis had declined. He knew who he was and what he was, and he wasn't some weak god or demon easily convinced to follow Set's lead.  
_   
_  
"What's this?" Set now asked, looking at the scepter lying on one of the tables.  
_   
_  
Anubis' white eyes narrowed. "Nothing of interest to you."  
_   
_  
"Everything is of interest to me, dear friend."  
_   
_  
Anubis clenched his teeth. Friend! Hah! Set was an annoying thorn in his paws! "I must ask you to leave, Set."  
_   
_  
"Or what?"  
_   
_  
Anubis turned and faced the bulkier dog spirit. Set was much heavier built then the jackal-headed god and had a lot of raw muscle power. He bared his canines in a gesture of warning. "Leave."  
_   
_  
Set smiled darkly and left, though he threw a last look at the scepter again and Anubis didn't like the glint in his eyes at all.  
_

Set.... yes, he remembered Set, but somehow those were conflicting memories. First he saw him as an enemy, then as a friend. Well, friend might not be the best word for it. More like a partner... no, superior. He gave him commands and Anubis obeyed them, though he sometimes felt like just lashing out and showing the other god what he thought of him. Anubis knew he was powerful; he was a god. But why was Set controlling him?  
Control...?  
Anubis pulled himself to his feet using the bed as leverage. His knees felt like jelly and he was shaking all over. He felt like someone had sucked every ounce of energy out of his system – and that was exactly what had happened. The monster had nearly killed him. The jackal shivered as if cold and almost collapsed onto the bed, pulling the bed covers around him. The red orbs of absolute evil followed him even into his waking hours and whenever he flashed back it was like he was in the mirror again. His gaze was involuntarily drawn to the mirror, his instincts screaming at him to get away from the reflective surface because it meant danger, but still.... Was every mirror dangerous?  
After a long time of just sitting on the bed, trying to get control back, he reached for the clothes Morrigan had left. He slowly pulled on the pants, then added the white T-shirt. He gazed at the mirror again, this time not seeing the red-eyed monster but something else. His image seemed to shift all of a sudden, turning the unfamiliar clothes into a more familiar outfit. A white skirt with a golden hem, golden bracelets and sandals, shin covers, a golden cloth running down his neck.... and the scepter in one hand.

 _  
Anubis had returned to his lab and work place because he had thought of some alterations he wanted to make to his new creation, the scepter. Currently it was way to dangerous in case he lost it to someone else because it didn't have a safe-guard that would allow only him to use it. As he entered he was immediately aware of an intruder.  
_   
_  
"Set!" he hissed. "What are you doing here?"  
_   
_  
The other god turned, the scepter in his hands. "Ah, Anubis," he growled. "So nice of you to drop in. But I'm sorry, I have to go."  
_   
_  
Anubis blocked his way. "Put down the scepter!" he commanded.  
_   
_  
"Can't. I hope you understand."  
_   
_  
Anubis saw him move and ducked out of the way of an energy blast, rolling around and calling upon his own powers. He missed Set, who was moving faster than he appeared, and the dog spirit lifted the scepter.  
_   
_  
"No!" Anubis screamed.  
_   
_  
The blast struck him.....  
_

Anubis gasped, grabbing his head and fell to his knees. Pain lanced through his mind as he tried to pierce through the walls around the next batch of memories. Set had struck him with a ray out of the new scepter.... the scepter that causes the sleep of forgetting. Only he hadn't slept, he had woken and he had forgotten who he was, what he was. Set must have taken advantage of the susceptible state of mind he had been in right after the ray had struck, giving him false memories. And he hadn't stopped with erasing the fact that he, Anubis, had invented the scepter; no, he had also imprinted on him that Set was superior, that he was in command, that Anubis was nothing but a dim-witted dog.  
Anger raced through him and he snarled. Set had used the scepter's power to get control over a god as strong as he was, to use him for his evil plans, to make him his ...lackey! Anubis bared his teeth, glaring into the mirror. His eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire. How dare he!? He was Anubis! One of the strongest of the gods!  
And how long had this gone on? How long had Set let Anubis trail after him like a puppy, made use of his still present powers, had made a fool out of him?  
Anubis staggered to his feet, leaning against the wall. Anger turned into rage, adrenaline rushing through his weakened and abused system, giving him strength. He had created the scepter a long time ago, when Egypt had still been under the rule of the pharaohs, when the ancient humans still believed in the all-mighty deities that influenced and sometimes controlled their lives. It had been before Amenhotep, the father of prince Rapses, had been born, it had been before his father even.  
"By the powers...." he groaned and shook his head, feeling a headache creep up on him. He had been under Set's control for more than 3600 years!  
"No," he whispered, resting his head against the wall. "No, no, no!" All the evil he had assisted in doing, all the pain he had inflicted. And lately he had partaken in the hunt for the young reborn prince. 3600 years of spending a life in the restricted confines of his mind, 3600 years of control.  
But no more!  
Anubis straightened, a decisive expression on his face. He was back! He would find Set if the Eye of Darkness hadn't swallowed him for good – which might be the better fate considering what the jackal-headed god had planned for him. But first he had to heal and get his strength back. He was in no shape to do more than walk, and even that was a challenge. His powers were a far cry from what he remembered from the old days, all used up in his battle against the monster in the mirror. Anubis shivered. He needed to recuperate. But was he safe here? He had to find out who this Morrigan was and what she wanted of him, then he would have to act.

* * *

Morrigan had managed to complete another successful test and was currently at her third cup of coffee when she heard hesitant steps. She looked up and smiled at the by now familiar form of her guest. Nearly a day had passed since he had woken and had been coherent, but he hadn't left the room until now. When she had checked on him a few hours after he had returned to consciousness, Anubis had sat with his back against the bed, staring at the mirror, trembling. He had refused food or drink, even talking to her, and so Morrigan had simply walked out again. She was worried, yes, but she was also not his mother or nanny.  
Anubis looked strange in the 'mundane' outfit of loosely fitting jeans and a slight too tight T-shirt, but it suited him. He wasn't very strong right now and as he entered the living room he held on to the frame of the door.  
"May I enter?" he asked shyly.  
"Of course. Come on and sit down before you collapse on the floor. You might not be very heavy, but I hate dragging you around," she answered cheerfully. "Hungry?"  
He seemed to think about it, then nodded slowly.  
"I hope you aren't into freshly killed animals. I don't keep any around."  
"Uhm, no."  
"So, what do you eat?"  
Anubis frowned. "Anything is fine."  
Morrigan rose fluidly and walked over to the fridge, piling different sorts of food on the table behind her. Anubis came over to her and sat on one of the kitchen stools. Somehow none of the food appealed to him, but he was hungry and he needed to regain his strength, so he half-heartedly chewed on a muesli bar. He grimaced. Morrigan chuckled softly.  
"I can get you dog biscuits."  
That made him smile, though it was a barely detectable one. "No, thanks."  
"I should check on your injuries," Morrigan finally said after he had swallowed the rest of his food. "And you need to drink. You had such a high fever that I thought you would fry." She met his pupilless eyes. "Can I touch you for the examination?"  
He swallowed briefly, eyes wide. She saw the fear in his face. He was afraid she would hurt him, like the monster had, but she was just a simple human being! She would have no chance against those teeth. Finally he nodded.  
"Take off the shirt."  
He obediently did so and Morrigan started checking the healing wounds. She noticed how the Egyptian god almost automatically moved away from her hands and she knew why. She had seen it when she had touched him, this strange monster in the mirror, The Eye of Darkness. It had inflicted an incredible pain, able to hurt and seriously injure a god, and Anubis was suffering from the recollections. He hissed in pain when she probed a cracked rib. It had been broken when he had arrived here, but his healing powers were taking care of that. It just took a bit longer. The bruises had faded and most of the cuts had closed, but the broken bones took longer to mend. He yelped again when she palpated the deep gash in his thigh and which had by now closed, though it was very sensitive to the touch.  
"Can you influence the areas where the healing should go faster?" she asked as he pulled the shirt back on.  
Anubis shook his head. "It just happens." He gazed at her. "Why did you do all this?"  
"Hm?"  
"Why did you help me?"  
"Well, mainly because you dropped into my hallway, shattering my favorite mirror. I inherited it from grandma. You aren't insured, are you?" Morrigan asked with a grin.  
"Ah.... uhm... no.... Insured?"  
She laughed at his puzzlement. "Forget it. Why did I do it? Well, I have a weak spot for gods crashing into my hallway. What else should I have done? Call the local dog shelter?"  
"This modern world no longer believes in gods and spirits, and those who see us usually call guards," Anubis pointed out. "What do you gain from this? What do you want from me?"  
"I want nothing, Anubis, except maybe a new mattress, but I don't think you have a Visa or Master card, right?"  
He shook his head. "No human helps a god without hidden intentions," the jackal-headed god then stated calmly.  
"This human does." Morrigan played with a cookie, then took a bite. "Care to tell me a bit about yourself? You don't seem to correspond with the depiction in the books I read."  
Anubis looked down at the table, folding his hands, refusing to meet her eyes. "A lot happened," he finally muttered.  
"Like your budding friendship with Set?"  
His ears flattened to his head and he bared his canines. "Don't mention that time!" he snarled, eyes glowing. "Never again! Set is not my friend!"  
Morrigan sat back a bit, raising her eyebrows. "Take it easy, Nu! Just yesterday you told me you were partners," she reminded him.  
Anubis forced himself to calm down, anger radiating off him. "He is *not* my friend and never was!" he whispered. "Never!"  
Silence settled over them, Morrigan waiting for possible further explanations, Anubis trying to control his temper. When nothing came forward, Morrigan ate the rest of the cookie and slipped off the chair. "Drink your water and rest. In case you feel up to it, we should walk a bit, so get some fresh air."  
He gave her a wry smile, sadness washing over him for a second. "I think I'd be rather suspicious looking."  
"Not in the middle of the night. It's quiet like a grave around here and with the holiday season a few months still off, most of the houses around here are empty.  
"Oh."  
"So, how about a midnight stroll?"  
He nodded silently. Morrigan smiled and went back to her laptop, starting with the rest of her work for today. Anubis just sat and watched her, his mind far away, back in the old days.

* * *

"Anubis is son of Osiris and Nephthys, known as 'The Faithful', because he always obeys the orders of the higher gods. The goddess Isis found and raised Anubis, and he guards her. Anubis is said to have performed the first embalming ever on the body of Osiris, who was murdered by Set, well protecting it from the influences of time and decay."

Anubis stared at the letters, feeling his head swim with returning memories. So much of this had grains of truth in them, but everything he had read what humans wrote about the Egyptian gods told the same story. He was no partner or friend of Set, and memories of loathing him came back. Set had always been a thorn in his side, someone he would have loved to seen cast out of the ranks of the gods, but like all deities he only followed his agenda, one given him by the belief humans had in him. It was the very base of existence of gods: belief. Worshippers gave them powers, infidels could destroy them. Gods became alive because of their worshippers, and they disappeared just as fast when the belief dwindled. They were still out there, but their actual power was gone because no-one believed in them any more. What powers they had was a far cry from what they used to have, most of them just playing with the energies surrounding them.  
Anubis smiled sadly. Of course, he was still powerful, but his memories told him how often he had been defeated by the four Guardians of prince Rapses, which – looking back at it now – had been for the best, but it showed what had become of the former all-powerful creatures of man's mind. At least he was alive.  
As for the tales and legends, yes, Isis had found him. The goddess had stumbled over the young jackal in the desert, had taken him to her home and she cared for him for a long time, raising a frightened little being into the powerful god he had become. Anubis had repaid her by protecting her from the more evil and malicious gods for as long as she let him, and when Isis had finally moved on to wherever she had gone, Anubis had remained behind.  
He had come to know Set early in his days at Isis' side and he had immediately detested him; it had been almost instinct. Set had always tried to lure him to his side, seeing the power the other god possessed, wanting it for himself. Anubis had resisted every time, seeing through the scheme, but he had not been quick enough to escape Set's last attack. The dog spirit had used the scepter almost full force, erasing memories, blocking them behind sturdy walls, transforming a proud and powerful god into a dim-witted, cowardly creature. Anubis clenched his hands into fists, growling darkly. Set would pay for this!  
He had been here for a week now, growing stronger, remembering more and more. He still evaded mirrors because they instilled some kind of primeval fear in him. Morrigan didn't push or ask, she simply kept him company, though he didn't like her expressions and neither did he like the fact that he was currently very much dependent on a mortal. She was an unusual woman and he had tried to find out more about her. He knew she was talented in the arts of magic, though she wasn't very strong. She had once mentioned that the woman who had owned this house before her, her grandmother, had been a White Witch. Apparently she had inherited some talent as well.  
Anubis shoved the book away and stared out of the attic's window, looking over the fog-covered bay. Whenever he watched the Western Gate so far in the distance he also remembered how he had aided Set trying to capture the young prince. Rapses and his four Guardians were hiding somewhere in San Francisco and his conscience was giving him hell for what he had done.  
Concentrating he felt his powers flood through his body and noticed with some satisfaction that he was getting stronger and stronger. Most of what was coming back was familiar to him, but some of those energies he hadn't felt for millennia. It felt good, but it was also frightening. He had to relearn how to use what was stored inside him and there was no teacher to aid him this time. The jackal held out one hand, palm up and open, and called his scepter. It appeared, shimmering slightly, then settled in full molecular cohesion. He turned it in his hands, sadness and revulsion rising inside him. He had intended it to be a weapon, true, but not one used for the destruction of another's mind or personality, only to help the gods walk amongst the mortals unseen or to leave those in oblivious bliss of a god's presence who could not cope with the otherworldly creatures. Priests had no problems with gods appearing and talking to them; most even saw it as their greatest honor to have a god, preferably the one of their cult, visit. But the other humans reacted with fright and panic, and Anubis had finally decided to construct a device to help them overcome this traumatic experience.  
"Nice staff," a calm voice intruded into his thoughts and he whirled around.  
"Morrigan!" he exclaimed.  
She smiled. "Hi. Yours?" she asked and nodded at the scepter. Anubis nodded and sent the dangerous weapon back. "What is it?"  
"Nothing," he muttered.  
The Scepter of Forgetting. A powerful weapon as he had felt himself, and maybe a weapon he had to use on this human. The thought instilled disgust in him and he locked it away. Morrigan didn't deserve this.  
"Ah," she said and tilted her head, giving him a look he had come to notice. She didn't believe a word of what he said but wouldn't pressure him into the truth. "Lunch is ready if you are into rice and chicken. In case you want to stay up here and ponder whatever you are pondering, be my guest."  
Anubis smiled slightly. "I'd prefer lunch."  
He followed her downstairs where the TV set was running. Currently there was a show running, aiming for totally outrageous or ludicrous stuff. 'The Living Dead Among Us' was today's topic and someone was talking about seeing mummies in the Bay Area. Anubis stopped, ears automatically swiveling forward, and he stared.  
The mummies.  
The four Guardians of prince Rapses.  
"Nu?"  
He blinked and turned away from the flickering screen. Morrigan looked at him, this knowing expression on her face. His suspicions that she knew a lot more about him and what had happened surfaced again.  
"My name is Anubis," he stated, trying to banish all thoughts on what this woman might know.  
"Whatever you say." She smiled. "Friends of yours?"  
He inhaled. "No."  
"But you know them."  
Anubis stared at her. "You believe in this?"  
"Hey, I had you crashing through a mirror. Why not four mummies running around in San Francisco?" Morrigan joked. She turned serious again. "Yes, I believe it, at least when it comes to mummies alive in the Bay Area. I'm not as good as grandma, but I can feel when something out of the ordinary occurs. Most of the time it doesn't even tickle my Other Senses, but then again I can feel it."  
He continued staring. "Could you... could you find them?"  
"Can't you?"  
He frowned. "Maybe."  
"Why do you want to find these mummies?"  
Anubis sighed. "Because I made a mistake when I was still...." He stopped. "I made a mistake," he then just said. "I have to redeem myself, mostly in my eyes, but also to them and the young prince." Aware that he had let something slip that might be dangerous, he clamped his mouth shut.  
Morrigan regarded him silently for a while. "I can only offer you my assistance. My powers come on and off, and I wouldn't even call them powers. It's more of a talent. And it will take time. I might not even be able to pick them up again."  
"Thank you," he said sincerely.  
"You are welcome."

* * *

Another two weeks had gone by. The sun set and spread a warm, red glow over the bay. Anubis sat on the high cliff overlooking the area and let his eyes wander to the softly glowing Western Gate. It was tempting to just go home, forget all about this and be himself again, but he couldn't. Even if Set was forever lost in the Eye of Darkness, too much had occurred for him to simply forget and go on as if nothing had ever happened. And he had yet to encounter the four Guardians again. Morrigan was frustrated because she was unable to pick up any sign and Anubis had yet to master the transportation powers he possessed. He couldn't teleport, or 'beam' as Morrigan called it jokingly, farther than from the basement into the attic or into the back yard. It was frustrating him in turn.  
He looked at the scepter in his hands and sighed deeply. It was his creation, but it was also a weapon that had backfired quite severely on him. He should destroy it. But it also hurt just thinking about it. Anubis touched the green crystal at the top and ran his fingertips over the smooth surface. Maybe he could change the settings and also imprint his presence on it. Only he should be able to fire the blast, no one else. The Power of Forgetting was too much a power of evil. He sent the scepter back and it shimmered out of existence.  
"Nu?"  
Morrigan approached him slowly, her steps soft on the rocky ground. Anubis looked up as she sat down at his side.  
"Don't call me that," he said almost automatically.  
"Whatever you say. Thinking about home?" she asked.  
"You can see it, right?" he asked quietly.  
She nodded. "Not very clearly, but I get the idea."  
"And you know what it is?" She nodded again. Anubis frowned slightly. "How? How do you know so much anyway? This can't be out of your books."  
Morrigan smiled. "No, it's not."  
"Then where did you get the knowledge from?"  
She was silent for a long time. Finally she said, "Promise you won't use your scepter on me?"  
Anubis' mouth dropped open. "You know about the scepter as well?"  
Morrigan nodded. "I know what it is and what it can be used for. Listen, when grandma introduced me to witchcraft and my talents, she also told me that witches have a knack for empathic spells. I had these spells once or twice since then, but you seem to radiate a strange kind of aura I have never felt before. Sometimes I get flashes and they contain information, like on the Western Gate, the scepter, you.... the Eye."  
Anubis swallowed. "You know about that as well?" he asked weakly.  
"Most of it. I have an idea of what happened to you...." She held up a hand as Anubis rocked back. "Nothing of this will ever leave my lips."  
"Why me?"  
"I honestly don't know. Fate? Karma? Bad luck?" Anubis sighed softly. Morrigan elbowed him gently. "I guess this will stop when you are back home or wherever you want to go now. It's just the close proximity."  
He looked doubtfully at her, then nodded, unconvinced.  
"Say, what now?"  
"Now?" Anubis frowned. "I don't know. I still have to get used to being my real self again, to be what I was. I have.... errr... problems with my powers. Too much reminds me of what I was and what I did. And too much is still lost to me." His hands clenched into fists and a dark cloud passed over his face.  
Morrigan gently touched his arm, pleased to see that he barely flinched. "But you are back now and just in case you worried, I'm not going to kick you out. I usually don't take paranormal guest, but with you I make an exception. You can stay as long as you want to."  
He smiled briefly. "Thanks." The jackal-headed god returned his gaze to the Western Gate. Home. One day maybe, but not right now. "Let's go," he finally said and rose.  
Morrigan followed him and the unlikely pair walked back to her pick-up. She didn't know what it would be like to have an ancient Egyptian god as a roomer, but well... other witches had cats, she had a jackal. She grinned at the thought. This would be interesting!

to be continued in 'Redemption'


End file.
